Page 133 of The Liar's Reckoning

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“The problem, Silas, is that someone is following you, which means someone is following my son. I’m guessing a private investigator. Have you noticed anything?”

Horror-stricken, I shake my head.

The old man sighs like he can’t believe he’s having to stoop to deal with something so obviously beneath him. Something so dirty and salacious andgay.

“I hope I don’t have to explain the kind of problem this presents to my family. Specifically, my son’s career in politics.”

It occurs to me, almost as an afterthought, that Christian texted me yesterday afternoon as I was waking up one of the many times I do after a night shift. We haven’t been exactly close since I moved out last year. He reaches out from time to time, and depending on my mood, I usually ignore his texts. But this time, I didn’t, and I made plans with him tonight. Tapas. He’d been more direct about wanting to get together with me, and I’d felt guilty for dodging him.

But the timing feels oddly convenient. His insistence on seeing me is out of character. Does Chris know something about this? He works in Gibson’s building, and I think his father was friends with the billionaire.

I shift in my seat and put my hand on the mug of coffee, trying to make it warm again. The last thing I want to do is antagonize a man like this—the fact that he’s Graham’s father is another reason to want to make a decent impression. But I’mnervous, and I’m feeling oddly similar to the way I felt when Ben told me he got the job in London. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, but it’s not like I can forget the sensation of a rug being tugged out from under me.

I press my mouth shut so I don’t snap at the man, determined to stay measured and calm, not give too much away, although I’m the one in the dark.

“I think it’s best,” he says, “if you look for another place to live.”

Graham has his father’s eyes—large and green—but the older man’s are lighter. Faded. I hold his gaze as my world falls down in chunks around me. “I thought this was Graham’s apartment.”

“It is, but it’s compromised. As are you. Silas, you’ve become a liability. And we can’t have that.”

I can’t breathe. I try to inhale, but the air gets caught in my throat, my chest too tight to let it in. “I need to see him,” I whisper. It’s the most sound I can make.

“I imagine you will, once he wakes up. But he’ll be moving in with us for the time being. We’ll keep an eye on him if you’re concerned.”

This isn’t happening. Graham’s not moving out. I’m not leaving. It’s ridiculous. So he’s gay. So we live together. So fucking what? It’s the twenty-first century, and we’re allowed to love who we love. We’re allowed to get divorced and live with whomever the fuck we want. I know deep in my soul Graham needs me as much as I need him. There’s no way he’d let his father come between us. He’s a U.S. senator for fuck’s sake. He can do whatever he wants. He’s not up for re-election for another three or four years.

Gay Republicans exist. I’ve never quite understood it, but they do. Honestly it’d probably only make himmorelikely to be re-elected in New York.

I don’t expect this old man to understand that, though, so Inod along like I’m agreeing. I’ll work this out with my partner, thanks. I’m ready for Paul Lawther to leave.

If I have to spam Graham’s phone to make him wake up and get his ass back here, I will, and I want to start now.

Mr. Lawther sighs. “If you need money?—”

“I don’t.”

He goes on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’m prepared to be generous.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He produces a business card from his inner breast pocket and sets it on the table. “If you change your mind.”

I stare at the card as he stands and straightens his suit. “I wish I could have met you under different circumstances. I love my sons. While I’m not rejoicing at the news of my eldest’s sexual orientation, that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll go to my grave trying to protect him. Feel free to blame me for any hardship this may cause you. I’ll be going now.”

I don’t walk him out, not trusting my legs to hold me up. The shock of what’s happened hits me in waves. One second the water is calm, the next it’s knocking me over.

Once I’m alone, I start calling Graham. I get his voicemail seven times before he picks up.

“Get home,” I tell him. “Now.”

I’m waitingon the couch when Graham comes in. He looks like shit, but even when he’s rumpled and pale, he’s beautiful. When he sees me, his face loses even more color. He empties his pockets on the kitchen island, stalling. Then, he walks into the kitchen, pours himself some water and guzzles it.

My tension mounts incrementally the longer it takes him to get to me. He’s avoiding it. He mutters something I can’tunderstand and disappears into the bedroom. I hear the shower come on.

I shut my eyes and try to breathe. I’ve had an hour since his father left to think. I’ve mostly been focused on the night before last when he made me dinner and refused to meet my mother. He said he had a shitty day. The business lunch. With Gibson Hayes. But he came home after that. He didn’t run to daddy. He came home tome.

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